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thought it would save time. They cannot be lost in the mud, I swear. They are all marked, and the men who are to lift them know well where they must seek. Have I done amiss? I fear" |
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"No, no," Ian laughed. "The thought was wise. If it works as planned, it will save time. But, Robert, in God's name, think how we shall all stink!" |
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"Stink?" Robert repeated blankly. |
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Of course they would stink, covered with the mud from the drained moat, which was rich in half-decayed feces and garbage. But what had a stink to do with anything? Everyone stank anyway, after working in the heat all week, with no chance to wash and no change of clothing. |
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"Never mind," Ian soothed, "it is a personal oddity in me. Sit." |
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He gestured toward a second campstool, and Geoffrey hurried over with a large wedge of cold meat pasty and half a fowl. |
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"I am sorry, lord," Geoffrey said. "That is all I saved from dinner. I did not think" |
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"Bring bread and cheese and another cup, and we shall do well enough. Leave it. I will serve. Go arm yourself." |
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Ian broke the fowl into pieces and cut the pasty in half with a slight smile on his lips. He had sent Geoffrey away for a purpose. He did not misunderstand the boy's trembling, but Sir Robert from the superior level of his 21 years of life might do so. Six parts excitement, three parts eagerness, one part fear was what Ian judged Geoffrey's affliction to be. He would do well enough once he had duties to perform. |
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"What did you want to talk to me about, Robert?" |
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"The women." The young man choked a little around the mouthful he was eating. "You said no word about the women. The men will think they are free to do with them as they please." |
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It was, of course, exactly what Ian wanted them to |
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